


Mystic Messenger Oneshots

by beabovidae



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Mystic Messenger - Freeform, mystic messenger x reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-28 22:31:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18765586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beabovidae/pseuds/beabovidae
Summary: A collection of Mystic Messenger oneshot stories I've written in my spare time. Some with x MC, some without.





	1. Humble Hands - Vanderwood x MC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During Day 8 of V's route, MC and Vanderwood become better acquainted with each other.

V finally is at peace, for the time being at least. He’s worn himself out enough to fall asleep, relieving MC’s worry from her shoulders for just a precious moment. She strokes his head, twirling his sky-blue hair between her fingertips as she lingers by his side. What a situation they’ve managed to get themselves into. 

MC stands at last, the dark rings under her eyes prominent. “I think I’ll rest in the bedroom if that’s okay,” she softly speaks to the two other men. “Please let me know if V wakes up, or if there is anything I can do to help.”

“We will, MC. Get some rest,” Seven monotonously mutters in response, his eyes also showing signs of weariness. The calluses on his fingertips begin to set in after hours of unbroken typing, and his craned neck and slouched back ache. Nonetheless, he perseveres. 

Agent Vanderwood silently observes the scene from a distant wall with folded arms. His eyes follow the young lady until she leaves the room, narrowed and curious. It’s been some time since meeting a normal person outside his line of work, and her normality engrosses him, more so with the question as to how someone so normal got involved in something so abnormal.

Without a word spoken to his partner, Vanderwood leaves the room. The floorboards groan under his heavy footing. He hadn’t expected to be so unsettled by this, considering he’s seen and been through circumstances of greater disturbance. The air is stifling with tension and is suffocating enough as is. He just wants to get out of this cottage. What the hell is this RFA club all about, he continues to bounce the question back and forth in his head. 

On his way to the bedroom, his eyes spy a first-aid kit hanging from a wall. He smoothly unhinges it with one gloved hand while his other rests on the doorknob. He feels the leather sticking to his palm as his hands suddenly become clammy. He doesn’t remember the last time he spoke to a girl. How does it go again? What does he need to make sure he doesn’t say to offend her? Does he compliment her appearance or is that inappropriate? He swallows his insecurity as quick as it had come and lets himself in. 

He sees her there, sitting on the edge of the bed with here back turned to him, cradling her wrist in her hand. 

I knew it.

“I think you should have told someone if you’re hurt,” he speaks matter-of-factly.

MC jumps at the unexpected voice, whipping her head around while quickly moving her hands to appear as if nothing was wrong. “O-Oh, Mr. Vanderwood! I didn’t see you there…” she nervously laughs.

“Ah, ‘Vanderwood’ is fine. I don’t need people to be polite with me.” He welcomes himself inside. His feet shuffle along the floorboards as he makes his way to her, overly cautious of making her uncomfortable. He sets the kit atop the bed and pulls up the nearby desk chair. “What happened?”

“What? Nothing, this is nothing. V has it worse-”

“He’s doing fine. That might get worse if you don’t get it treated,” he gestures to her hand with his chin.

MC sighs, looking away with her cheeks tingeing pink with. “A Believer grabbed my wrist to try and stop me while we were running away.” 

Vanderwood bluntly replies, “Show me,” but she can hear the care in his voice.

Seeing his eyes not falter once as they met hers, she timidly extends her arm from her side. Vanderwood effortlessly pulls off one gloves to reveal his bare hand and his fingers lightly wrap around her wrist, holding it gently with both hands. Though she knows it is rude to stare, her eyes can’t help but fall upon the numerous silver lines and faded marks tattooed on his skin. Some are barely noticeable, having healed over time, but others are much deeper and distorted with lasting effects, if not permanent. She’s surprised to see him appear so nonchalant about exposing something this unnatural to a stranger like her.

“So, you’re a secret agent, huh?” MC awkwardly starts a new topic of conversation. “I’m guessing it’s nothing like what I’ve seen in movies.”

To her surprise, the agent cracks a smile. “Nothing like it. Some stuff is almost accurate, but you can tell the movie was made by someone who knows nothing about people like me and Seven-Zero-Seven.”

“But it’s still dangerous, right?” she says as her gaze subtly shifts down to his hand again.

“Even more than the movies-- one wrong move and you’re dead. If only starting a new life was as easy as they make it look. If it were like that, I’d be out of that hellhole in no time.” He stops himself from continuing, realising the way he’d just spoken in front of her. He looks away and clears his throat. “Uh, sorry, I shouldn’t really be talking about this kind of stuff with you.”

“Why? Because I’m a girl?”

“Yes…?” He doesn’t sound confident in his answer at all.

She stifles a laugh behind a cough. “I might not know much about what kind of life you have, but I can still lend an ear… i-if i’m allowed to, of course. I don’t know if you’re allowed to talk to me because of confidentiality or--”

“No, no, that’s… that’d be nice, actually. It’s nice to talk to someone knowing they’re not a trained killer, you know?” 

The strangers don’t know what to make of the other’s response. For the first time since Vanderwood entered the room, they hold eye contact, seemingly lost in the pools of their irises. The distant cricket songs of the night float through the slightly ajar window in a tranquil breeze, filling the otherwise awkward air with comfort. He feels relaxed, peaceful even, feeling that he doesn’t have to keep up his walls so tall.

It isn’t until he catches his hand sliding off the bandage that they were snapped from their momentary trances. “Can you move your fingers?” he breaks the silence and quickly resumes his tending to her.

“Oh, yes, I think so,” she stutters.

He carefully rotates her wrist in different directions at her words, ensuring he won’t go any further at a sign of discomfort. “Well, I don’t think it’s broken. But it’s definitely sprained.” Placing her hand in his lap, he opens the first aid kit and pulls out a bandage and medical tape, wrapping it around her fragile wrist.

“Thank you,” she mutters bashfully.

His delicate handwork stiffens and a sudden coughing fit overcomes him. He definitely wasn’t expecting to hear that. “It’s nothing... I just, I think it would annoy me, knowing someone was hurt, and I wasn’t doing anything, is all...”

“You’ve been doing plenty. It means a lot that you’re looking after V, as well.”

“‘As well’? I really haven’t done much. You’re the one doing most of the work here, except for Seven-Zero-Seven, of course.”

“Well, you’re looking after me right now, aren’t you?”

Though the room is dark, the lamp exposes Vanderwood’s face just enough for MC to see his cheeks dusted a light red. “Y-You’re kind of putting me on the spot here. I don’t really know what to say to that kind of stuff...”

She giggles. “I know Seven is really grateful of you, too.”

“That kid,” he sighs irritatedly. “He treats me like I’m his maid all the time, ordering me around to do all his housework and jobs from the boss. He wouldn’t be in the agency if it weren’t for me covering his ass all the time.”

“It sounds like you’ve helped a lot of people before.” MC gazes at his eyes as they remain fixed on wrapping her hand, seeing his oak-brown orbs glisten in the lamp light. They occasionally sneak a risky glance back to his stricken hand. She has to swallow the urge to ask about it, believing it’s a story of an answer too personal for someone of their recent acquaintance. 

“Ah, well, I suppose that’s true. One way or another.” 

Once he finishes, he hooks on the clip to keep the bandage in place, his fingers holding her hand for longer than he’d intended. He quickly takes his hand away and leaves almost immediately. 

“Try not to move it around a lot. You might worsen it if you do. And... you can tell me if it still hurts. I can give it more treatment if you need it.”

“I will. Thank you, Vanderwood,” she smiles warmly, seeing him in a new light than what her first impression had created.

“Well… goodnight, then.” He gives her a courteous nod and closes the door behind him.

Vanderwood’s face is a red hot mess. He leans against the wall, grounding himself back on earth while his head is still in the clouds. He thinks about how soft her skin was, how fragile her hands looked when he held them in his own, the feeling of another person’s touch on bare skin. He instantly longs for the sensation again, feeling as though he were a child experiencing a new sensation for the first time.

Once again, burying his thoughts to maintain professionalism, he straightens his back, returns the kit to its original place and shuffles back into the living room. He stands over the photographer, now beginning to toss and turn in his sleep. His stare is cold, as if to silently berate the man.

“She seems nice,” he mumbles under his breath.

“I didn’t think you knew how to talk to girls, madam,” Seven teases, but the enjoyment in his tone is missed. “And she’s taken, so get in line.”

“Hey, I know! I’m not so improper of a guy that’d I’d steal her away. And I don’t like like her that way, anyway.”

It was only at that point that the agent stops his typing and finally looks up from his screen. His gaze pierces through the frame of his glasses and struck Vanderwood’s unsteady heart. 

“Then where’s your glove?”


	2. Interleave - Ray x MC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MC takes the courage to break the conformities of the time loop's rules, taking Ray out for a day of fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This piece was actually used in the Saeran Zine, which I'm very proud to have been part of in 2018 and its great success! For those who were unable to purchase their own copy, please enjoy my contribution :)

You’d gotten the good ending, the normal one, too. All that was left was to break his heart five times for that one-hundred percent completion of his love story. It was a bittersweet feeling upon realizing that your journey was on the home-stretch. The more you thought about it, however, you couldn’t bring yourself to break his heart like that after all the brokenness he’d been subjected to before. Especially since you knew what the bad endings for the RFA members were -- Ray’s could only be tenfold more devastating. You wouldn’t do it. You couldn’t do it.

The familiar ping of the messenger popped your bubble of thought and enticed you to pick up your phone as it sat on the marble-finish coffee table. It was the 10:23am chatroom of Day Six. You knew what it meant for you if you opened it -- the kinds of answers you would have to choose to get a new outcome. You refused to play along, tapping onto Ray’s contact to give him a call instead.

One ring… Two rings… Three rings… No answer.

You rose from the table and carried yourself to the lancet windows. The morning was young and the garden flickered with quartz-like raindrops under the dawning of the day’s first light. You knew he wouldn’t pick up at this time on the sixth day, but your thumb wouldn’t desist in tapping his name again and again as though you were in a stupor.

A shrill of static noise ripped through the air, causing you to block your ears and drop your phone. As you frantically inspected the device for cracks, you noticed the screen displaying that you were in a phone call. You held the phone to your ear and timidly spoke.

“Ray...?”

“MC! Did something happen? I got worried something happened to you.”

“Oh, uh… no, I’m okay. Were you, um, working?”

“Saviour said I can’t speak with you until I finish improvements. I’m sorry I didn’t pick up the first time… Are you mad?”

“N-No, of course not! I just… I was wondering if you wanted to maybe… go out?”

“Go out? As in... leave?”

“Yeah! I mean, not like that, but with you!” 

“I… I can’t, MC. Saviour would be upset if I did. There’s so much to be done.”

“We’ll come back by the end of the day -- just for a few hours. It’ll be good for you, too!”

He exhaled, the sound of his breath dragging past his lips. “MC, you don’t have to do this for me. I don’t deserve it. I’m weak, and an airhead--”

“You’re not to me. I want to spend time with you.”

“But what if something bad happens to you because of me? I… I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

“Ray, I swear nothing will happen to you, or me. I just want to… see you smile.”

He sighed a second time. “Meet me in the garden. Hide next to the geraniums where security won’t see you. I’ll be there in a few minutes... Please, don’t go anywhere.”

Once the call ended, you sat on the bed with a hand on your chest, your heart pounding with adrenaline every passing second. He’d answered the call when you could’ve sworn he wasn’t meant to, and that wasn’t an ordinary conversation. It was too ordinary to be ‘normal’ by the route’s standards.

You snuck out from your suite to meet him, going with the flow of the unexpected turn.

…

You gazed silently outside the moving car’s window as distance grew between you and Mint Eye. Maple leaves dusted the asphalt with their fiery hues of red and orange, adding colour to the seemingly grey road. Nothing could beat the beauty of mother nature and her sky-scraping pine trees high up in the mountains.

“We’re almost there…” Ray spoke quietly as he gripped the steering wheel.

“Thank you for lending me a Believer’s uniform.”

“I didn’t want you to get cold.. A-and I had to make sure we wouldn’t be seen leaving. I want to make sure you’re safe.”

“I know… I think it’s really brave of you to come out with me like this.”

It wasn’t long before the familiar bustling of people came into view around the last corner. Ray parked the car a good distance away to avoid being spotted by the security cameras. It seemed much more vast than you’d last remembered. For a place that you could only enjoy in the prologue for a scarce moment, you wished you were granted more time for exploration.

Together, you walked along the brick road of the metropolis, the splashes of colours from cafes and clothing boutiques catching your eye wherever you looked. Finally free from your beautified prison after a number of repeated weeks, you couldn’t help but feel giddy.

Before long, you found yourself standing in front of the same cafe you were first picked up from. You felt your stomach grumble.

“I heard they have really good ice-cream here… Should we get some?”

“I-If you’d like,” Ray smiled.

Many people had queued in line to enjoy the mouth-watering delight on the cloudless morning. How long had it been since he’d taken gladness from this secret pleasure of his? It must’ve been an awful number of months.

“My treat,” you insisted as you pulled out a coin purse from the cloak’s pocket.

“Oh no, MC, I really don’t think--”

“You deserve it, Ray. I won’t let you think otherwise.” Without another word, you approached the counter, Ray following you closely behind.

With icy scoops of the sweet dessert in hand, you both ambled down the promenade and admired the sights of the gaily store fronts. Distant echoes of buskers danced to your ears and you found yourself swaying with the melodies in your steps. A few times you looked over to Ray, who looked like a kid in a candy store with his obvious intrigue.

Scattered flower-beds along the stone pavement caught his attention with their vibrant petals and he felt tantalized enough to brush his finger along the the petals of a white daisy. Mint Eye’s garden succeeded in elegance ten-fold when compared to this place, and yet they seemed much prettier here. 

His eyes sparkled with wonder and curiosity the further you strolled, but he only really glowed when beyond all of the outlets was a wide open field, devoid of any other soul. It was just you and him -- the perfect scenario.

Florae of many kinds scattered across the green blades of grass like splashes of paint on a canvas. Entranced by their beauty, you took him by the hand and led him through the field, finding a perfect patch to sit in and bathe in sunlight surrounded by colours of grace. You felt content, the back-burner-nagging of your conscience telling you “you can’t do this” finally silenced. It didn’t matter what was to become of this -- what truly mattered to you was that you were able to do this for Ray outside of the game’s limitations.

After all, you’d probably never get to do this again.

“Hey…” you mumbled, “have you ever made a flower crown?”

“A crown? From flowers? I don’t think I have.”

You sprang at the opportunity as you swiftly picked as many flowers around you as you could. “I’ll show you! They’re really easy, just watch what I do.”

He observed from over your shoulder as you intertwined the delicate stems of each flower into one another. There was a moment of peaceful silence as you both created your flower circlets, until he broke the quiet.

“MC… why did you want to do this for me?”

“Do what?”

“Take me out. Eating ice-cream with me, making crowns from flowers, just doing nice things for me. I haven’t done anything that deserves your praise.”

“Not everything has to be a prize, Ray. Most things should be done for someone out of love, not as a reward for good behaviour.” You saw his weaving slow, knowing your words were reaching him. “You know what I’m talking about… right?”

“If it wasn’t for Saviour, I wouldn’t be who I am today.”

You paused. “I’m sorry if I shouldn’t be saying this, but… is who you are right now really who you want to be?”

He turned his head and gazed deeply into your eyes. The wind swayed your hair across your face, making you appear even more so as an angel sent for him with your words of wisdom and love. His face showed an expression that couldn’t be put so easily into words. You reciprocated as you felt the same way, but made yourself busy again.

“Here, this is for you,” you smiled as you gently placed your finished work onto his head. It was a treasure shaped from orchids and gypsophila, together meaning ‘beauty, strength and undying love’.

Tenderly, he placed his own crown of ‘lily of the valley’ on your head, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “I shouldn’t be in love with you,” he muttered closely to your ear.

Every hair on your limbs were raised with anticipation as you felt his breath on your neck. He was so close, right there in front of you, alas he felt so far away no matter what you could say. The sweet, earthy perfume of the flowers surrounding you both filled your nostrils, bringing a new calmness to ease both your nerves.

His face hadn’t retreated from yours yet, and your heart was beating harder the more he lingered. Was this true affection? Or had the game somehow reprogrammed his character to act this way to compensate for the new turn of events? You eyed the shrinking space between your lips.

“Is this real?” the whispered words escaped your mouth.

At last, the gap was closed with a gentle kiss. His lips were chapped, but you didn’t mind. His cold hand found the side of your neck, soon cupping your cheek as you both grew passionate. All the uncertainty melted away with intimacy -- this was the realest thing you’d experienced with him, with any of them, and you didn’t want the moment to end.

…

Tip-toeing through the lantern-lit hallways, Ray led the way as he guided you back to your room while attempting to remain unseen. Once the door to your room was finally reached, he hurried you inside when he could hear footsteps approaching from a distance.

“You should go before someone sees you,” you urged him.

“I will… I’ll see you again soon, my Princess.” He smiled before swiftly planting one last kiss on your forehead, then closing the door.

You sighed in bliss, letting yourself twirl a few times before flopping onto your soft mattress. You knew that nothing could top what you had managed to do for Ray today, and the reward of euphoria from both parties was more than enough to satiate your desire to be with him. Having lost track of the time of day, you checked your phone for the first time in a number of hours. 

Nothing could’ve made you sick to the stomach faster than what your screen displayed — a seemingly endless list of notifications full of missed texts, calls and chatrooms from the RFA. You quickly opened the app and saw the day had already reached the route’s first bridge. You didn’t need a mirror to know that your face had drained its colour. You covered your mouth.

“Crap… the participation target...”

You tried to be hopeful that the previous day’s progress would be enough to get you over, but you doubted it. You wished you could’ve said goodbye to Ray properly if you’d known this was going to happen. The guilt you’d worked to avoid came rushing back. Your throat closed up and your hands became clammy with anxiety. There was nothing more you could do. The damage was done.

You looked away from the screen as you unlocked the story mode, waiting for what was about to happen. Normally, you would leave your room and meet Mint Eye’s leader outside your door; the plot progressing forward.

So when a Believer entered your room unannounced, demanding your audience with the Saviour, you knew it was over.


	3. Come, Puppet Child - Child Saeran

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prosie-r piece of Child Saeran during the time he falls under Rika's control at such a tender age.

Saeran Choi stands on the world’s edge. He toes the border of sanity and abyssal turmoil. He peers over; it’s dark and lonely. His brother isn’t waving from the other side. If he’s not there, where could he be? The child thinks to himself.

“Saeran,” his carer approaches.

“Ah, Rika!” The child beams, feeling grounded once more.

“What’re you looking at over here?”

“V said it was a weed, but I think it’s too pretty to be called a weed.” He looks up at her from where he crouches on the pavement, diverging his gaze quickly back to the flower buds after a moment’s pause. “It’s pretty, like your hair!”

She bends down to the boy’s level, inspecting the plant from his world. Its stalks are spindly; easily perishable if pushed too much by wind or pestilence. She, too, is reminded of herself.

“V said that? I think it’s the most beautiful of all the flowers in the garden. You agree, don’t you?”

Saeran hums in musing as he glances at the garden bed in whole. “I don’t know. I like that one over there, too. It’s too hard to choose… Can I like both?”

“Surely you know you can’t have two favourites, Saeran. There can only be one that you truly love with all your heart.”

“Then… I like this one the most.” He points to the vibrant red geranium freshly potted by his own hands. “This is for Saeyoung when he comes back, so I think this is the most beautiful, since it’s for my brother.”

Her chest tightens with the feeling of displeasure. “I see,” she speaks bitterly without nearly the same warmth as she had expressed before. It wasn’t the answer she wanted. “But Saeyoung isn’t here right now, is he?”

His smile dissipates. “No… But… He’s coming back for me.”

“And who told you that?”

Daggers one after the after in rapid-fire succession pierce his breast, bringing him back to his border. She grounds herself on the other side. ‘Come, Saeran, with me,’ her spirit beckons him. He can feel his toes inching over the line, taste-testing the life of a future marionette.

“Saeran, may I take a photo of you?” Without much hesitation, she prepares the camera she’s already holding in her hands. “Come stand in the shade-- the sun is too bright when it shines on you like that.”

The boy’s smile seems to make the petals glow with great vibrance, but there’s no happiness. She sees that sadness in his eyes that she’s instigated, being the exact reason why she wanted to photograph this moment; the start of the end to her hurt. All she needed for her life to be infinitely better was standing right in front of her.

“Saeran, lunch is ready!” V calls from inside their house on the cliff. “Come quickly or it’ll get cold.” 

“C-Coming, V!”

“Saeran, wait.” She hastily grabs his wrist before he escapes. She checks once over her shoulder to make sure they are still alone before she speaks in a hushed voice. “I’d like you to help me with something.”

“With what?”

“It’s a surprise for V, so that means he can’t know about what I’m going to tell you. Do you understand?”

“Oh! Is it because you and V have been fighting a lot and you want to make up with him?”

She only smiles after a single huff of laughter drops from her lips. “I need you to meet me at the cathedral tonight, and it is very important you make sure V doesn’t see you. You can do that for me, can’t you?”

The mint-eye photographer steps outside in time to see Saeran nodding and jumping enthusiastically before retreating to the house’s interior, understanding the two were having a private exchange. 

“What are you telling him?” He boldly asks. His tone remains soft, but his eyes are coloured with prudence.

“I’m simply looking out for him. Someone needs to protect him from all the pain, all the suffering and agony in this cruel world.”

“That’s what we’re doing right now, Rika. I’m just worried you’re... telling him things he shouldn’t hear.”

“Says the one who tells him a beautiful flower of the earth is nothing but a weed.” She eyes him studiously as she bares witness to his stammering. “How much trust must you have lost in me to believe such a thing, V? Do you really have so little faith in me? Are you giving up on me, after all you promised me?”

“No! I’ll always put my faith and trust in you, Rika. I’ll never leave your side.”

She brushes past his shoulder as she too returns inside. “Good,” she says as she passes his ear. “Because I’m not the weed here, V.”

...

Saeran tells himself the night is darker than usual tonight. The stars against the black curtain of the sky make all sorts of strange disfigured illusions as he tiptoes out of the front door and onto the dirt path. He shivers, despite wearing his new, very warm knitted jumper Rika ever-so-kindly purchased for him. It’s something else that’s causing the tremors. something that bites harder than the cold. 

Is this fear? The child thinks some more.

He ambles on, notwithstanding his gait showing wariness after some time as he strays further from the familiar glow of local street lamps. But he finds comfort in the wonders of his icy cloud of breath as it morphs and dances around him, kindling his mild anxiety to settle further. Not so far away he begins to make out the hazy edges of the gable-roofed church. A wave of satisfaction washes through him as he congratulates himself undertaking a risky task given to him. He can’t remember the last time he felt so proud of himself.

He knocks on the wooden door twice and waits to see Rika’s smiling face. To his surprise, he feels two taps on his shoulder, as though his knocking is echoing back to him.

“Are you lost?” A tall man wearing a black patterned robe towers over the child. The fabric is gilded with great intricacy of line work, mesmerising the boy for a moment as it glitters in the moonlight for a few fleeting seconds.

“N-No… I’m meeting someone here. And it’s very important.”

“Yes, it is.”

Saeran is quickly confounded by the stranger’s words while several alerts ring in his head that this person could mean bad news. But he’s too late to discover his ignorance.

“The Saviour will see you now.”

A hand in cloth muffles his mouth before his throat can shriek for help. He’s scared as his world surrealistically topples before his eyes.

This isn’t what he wanted. After finally stepping over the boundary, he sees what the other side has lead him to; a life of puppetry with a purpose of serving counterfeit justice. But with a fix of his magenta suit and gulp of his elixir, he dances as his strings demand. He solemnly swears upon all his wounds to serve and protect his saviour--

\--until one person alone cut him free and lead him to his true “eternal paradise”, the child believes.


End file.
